


Two snuggly Pippin ficlets

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Interspecies, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pippin tacklehugs Faramir. Twice.<br/>Um... slash-flavored gen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impudent Pippin

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm insomniac I might as well scribble. This is just a ficlet, spawned by a challenge in another fandom which required the phrase "damn your impudence" to be used.

At least he looked first, Faramir thought with some small relief, watching Pippin quickly but thoroughly scan both ends of the empty hallway. For just a moment he looked alert, keen-eyed, every inch a soldier of Gondor, albeit a small one.

Then Pippin looked up at Faramir with those impossible green eyes, and smiled in a way that ran fire through Faramir's veins, and flung himself at the newly minted steward, pushing them both into a window alcove. "Faramir!"

"Peregrin." Faramir pitched his voice coolly, and Pippin stopped in mid-leap, looking puzzled, then comprehending with a roll of his big bright eyes. "I am," Faramir continued, directing as much sternness at himself as at the halfling, "beyond joy to see you up and well and returned to duty. Even so---" the impish smile was already returning---"this is not the time---" Pippin plastered himself to Faramir's legs, winding arms round his waist---"for such a reunion! Pippin!"

"If you lift me up I'll kiss you." Pippin curled his fingers in Faramir's tunic as he spoke, as if preparing to haul himself up. Faramir sighed, clamping his eyes shut against sparkling green ones. "We are soldiers of Gondor, Pippin, and both on duty---"

"I've been wanting to kiss you for _weeks_." How could his voice be so male and yet so sweet? Pippin pressed his warm cheek to Faramir's tunic, and Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, found himself pinned to the wall and overcome. "Damn your impudence, halfling," he muttered as he hooked his hands beneath a round slender bottom and lifted. Pippin wound his legs round Faramir's waist and his arms round his neck, small hands clutching Faramir's hair as he ravished Faramir's mouth with a determination and delight far outstripping the size of that rosebud mouth. Muzzily, as his head was tilted back and his lower lip sucked upon, Faramir thought that the kiss was against all sense and propriety and very much worth it.


	2. When the King Comes Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The King values, and honors, his stewards."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this from a [genuine Shirebound Plotbunny!](http://www.livejournal.com/users/shirebound/182468.html)

Title: When the King Comes Back  
Rating: G  
Characters: The latter Steward of Gondor and his newest Knight. Also, a surprise.  
Pairing: In the eye of the beholder  
Summary: "The King values, and honors, his stewards"  
Warning: much cuddling

 

"Peregrin son of Paladin," said Faramir, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, "do you _ever_ consider the future?" Faramir sat in a bright window alcove, resting a moment from his duties in a fashion which had become delightfully familiar that summer, seated with a halfling knight on his lap. Pippin stretched and smiled and leaned his curly head back against Faramir's shoulder as he watched his captain laugh with shining eyes. "Of course I do, my lord Faramir," he replied, draping one leg over the other with only the slightest hitch in his movements, then bouncing his foot energetically. "I think at night of what breakfast will be, and at breakfast of what dinner might be, and during the day of when best to ask the King to smoke with me. I think every day of going home again. And I think of what I'll do there, because I'll never be Thain."

Now the bright green eyes looked out wistfully at the sky beyond the window, and the foot hung still. In a moment the pensive look was hidden again beneath a bright smile, but Faramir tilted his head slightly as he gazed at Pippin, knowing what he'd seen. "The Thain is the authority in the Shire, is he not?"

"Well, the Mayor does the day-to-day bits," Pippin said, eager as any of the hobbits to speak of the Shire, "but the Thain is, well, like the Steward. He's the one who would muster the Hobbitry-In-Arms, and so on. My father is Thain now, and has looked forward to passing it on to me. But now..." the smiling mask slipped a bit. "The King is back. So I won't be Thain."

Faramir wrapped one arm around Pippin's waist, ostensibly to steady him, but Pippin leaned into the embrace with a little sigh, closing his eyes and smiling. Faramir smiled with him and said, "I came to see you Halflings and the King twice during your days in Ithilien."

"Twice?" Pippin's eyelids flew up. "I only recall one visit, the day you brought Beregond."

"You had not yet woken, the first time." Pippin made a face, and Faramir laughed and teased, "Swathed all in linen bandages, you were like a little pale scarecrow;" Pippin stuck out his tongue as Faramir relentlessly continued, "I hadn't seen anything so scruffily dreadful since my first look into a mirror at the Houses of Healing."

Pippin laughed, but then he pressed his head beneath Faramir's, curls tickling Faramir's chin. "You looked wonderful, last I saw you, and when I saw you again," he murmured into Faramir's chest, and Faramir wrapped both arms round him for reply, holding his small soldier close. They sat there like that for a long moment, before Faramir continued in a slightly hoarse voice, "So I came to see you, my little broken-winged falcon, and my lady's shieldbrother as well. I doubt he remembers my visit either; he had fallen asleep beside you, worn with watching, so I lifted him into the bed."

"He wouldn't have noticed if you'd held him upside down," Pippin said, words still muffled by Faramir's chest. "Merry sleeps like---" Pippin paused, as his breath hitched, and before he could think too hard on what he'd nearly said, Faramir picked up their talk with, "Merry says _you_ cannot be woken, and that you snore."

"I do not!" Pippin cried, raising his face to look up at Faramir with a wide grin that quite belied his tone. Faramir couldn't help but grin back as he went on with his tale. "I paid a visit to Frodo and Samwise, as well, though they were nowhere near waking either, and then I went to see the King, who chided me for leaving the least for last."

Pippin giggled and nodded; Faramir pushed a stray curl back from his face, feeling soft fine skin beneath his hand. "I told him that I had left the most important for the last, and of the provisions and preparations of the City, and eventually, after perhaps one goblet too many of wine, I said to him that I did not know what I would do for employment after my Stewardship ended, and offered to captain the Rangers of Ithilien again for him. Do you know what his reply was?"

"How could I? I was still recovering from a rather vigorous skirmish, as you might recall." Pippin's smile was still real and bright, before it vanished beneath Faramir's chin again as Pippin wound his hands in Faramir's jerkin. "Indeed you were," Faramir admitted, settling his hands round Pippin's waist. "And indeed he and I were the only ones in his tent that night. Still, I feel I have leave to repeat his words. He told me, 'when I send you to Ithilien you shall go as the Prince, and when you return to Minas Tirith you shall go as my Steward. In you I have found my right hand; why would I cut it off again?' I stared at him like a boy, or at least like a man half-healed and half-drunk, and he kissed me on my brow to seal his words."

"And you kissed him back, I do hope," Pippin replied, and Faramir snorted. "As you yourself said, Peregrin of the Citadel, you were not there." Pippin made a rude noise, and Faramir laughed and squeezed him as tightly as he dared, marveling once more at his smallest knight and his unexpected halfling friend, before putting Pippin gently off his lap and rising to his feet. "We have sat here too long," he told Pippin, who nodded obediently, saluted and turned to go.

It was Faramir who turned Pippin back to face him again, and he laughed in his heart at himself even as he knelt, settling his hands on Pippin's shoulders. "I know you will be Thain, Pippin, and your son after you. The King values, and honors, his stewards. If you doubt it, ask him yourself."

Pippin's smile at those words was impossibly, wonderfully sweet. "I don't doubt it, Faramir, but I will ask him. Thank you. Thank you, so very much! " Pippin threw his arms round Faramir's neck and kissed his cheek, all artless joy ; then he disentangled himself, straightened his overtunic, and was a soldier once more.

"I should hope you will," said a third voice; Pippin gasped and whirled as Faramir, still on one knee, smiled up at his liege, who lounged against the wall with folded arms. "Though I think our lord Faramir has put it better than I can."

"King Strider! How long were you listening! Faramir! You knew he was there! Aigh!" With that battle cry, Pippin flung himself on Faramir, who laughed even as he went down beneath the onslaught; Aragorn, King Elessar, laughed as well, as he waded in to rescue his steward from his trollsbane knight.


End file.
